Captain John Winchester
by carryonmy-waywardson
Summary: Dean's home, for once, and John has a secret he's been hiding for weeks - he wants his own son. But, will John be surprised if Dean wants him too?
1. Part one

It was dark by the time Dean reached Bobby's, and he was exhausted; his muscles ached, his head throbbed, and all he wanted to do was fall onto the couch with a beer in his hand. The Impala's headlights cut through the darkness as Dean pulled in the old hunter's front yard, and shifted the car into park. Everything was quiet and calm, for once, and Dean was thankful; he had put up with enough shit in the hours before, that all he wanted to hear was silence.

Dean tore the keys out of the ignition and got out of the car; groaning as he stood up, stretching slightly. His joints popped loudly as he shut the door, and he let out a low moan, loving the feeling as they popped. Walking around the old Chevy, Dean shot a glance at the house in front of him; wondering why there were no lights on. He shrugged as he twisted the key in the lock on the trunk, and pulled it open; grabbing two duffel bags, one which contained clothes, and the other that held guns and ammo.

He tossed them over his shoulder and slammed the trunk shut, before walking, quickly, to the front door. Dean stopped to gently knock on the door, but as he lifted his hand; he heard the door creak open. Chuckling to himself, Dean shook his head and inched the door open with the toe of his boot.

"Dad?" Dean called out as he trudged into the foyer, dropping both of his bags in the narrow space. "Bobby?" His voice rang out louder as he walked into Bobby's living room and felt for the light switch. After a second of fumbling, Dean's fingers hit the switch, and he flipped it up; his eyes moving across the room as the light flooded it.

Liquor bottles and beer cans crowded the room, and Dean groaned in disgust. He sighed and made his way through the garbage; gently kicking it aside. "Bobby!" Dean called out, looking up at the ceiling, as if he'd magically be able to tell if Bobby and his dad were upstairs.

The sound of his cell phone ringing pulled Dean from his search, and he quickly snapped it open; holding it up to his ear. "Dad?" Dean waited for a response, and only heard the familiar sound of his father's husky laughter.

"Yeah - it's me, Dean," John replied and Dean chuckled, running his free hand through his short, brown hair. "Hey, where are you? I'm at Bobby's." Dean held the phone tighter against his ear, as he made his way through the messy room.

"Oh, you are?" John's gruff voice sounded almost surprised, and Dean's forehead furrowed with confusion.

"Yeah, I called you earlier, remember?" Dean paused as he pushed a few beer cans off the couch, "I told you I was close by, and was going to save money by staying here, with you guys." Sinking down onto the couch, Dean let out a long groan as he relaxed against the soft couch cushions.

"Oh, yeah, I remember; I just didn't know you'd be here so early." Dean heard his father's laughter, and he couldn't help but smile; the man had a warm voice, and a laugh that could put a smile on just about anyone's face. John's voice cut through his thoughts, and Dean heard him add, "We'll be home in a bit. See you then."

Dean opened his mouth to tell his father he'd see him later, but before he could get the words out, the line cut out. "Okay," Dean mumbled and shut his phone; leaning forward to peel his jacket off.

It felt good to be home, or at least be at the only home he had ever known, and Dean was content; there were no demons that needed to be taken care of, or people that needed to be saved. Taking in the silence, Dean shifted; stretching out as he lay his head on the arm of the couch.

"Dean," _He felt himself being shook slightly. _"Dean! Wake up, boy." Dean's eyes fluttered open and he grumbled incoherent words as he looked up at Bobby. "What?" He slurred and swallowed hard; sitting up as he lifted a balled fist to his eye, rubbing it softly. "Mm, where am I?" Dean asked in a sleep-heavy voice, and looked around; remembering he was at Bobby's, lying on his couch.

"At my house, you idjit." Dean smiled at the old hunter's familiar voice, and insults, and yawned sleepily. "Where's dad?" He asked, mid-yawn, as he looked around; his eyes not yet adjusting to the light.

"He's bringing in groceries from the Chevelle," Bobby's words made Dean giggle, and he snapped his head at the old hunter. His face was serious and Dean stopped giggling, raising his eyebrow.

"_Groceries_? John Winchester? Are you sure you don't have a demon, disguising himself as my dad?" Dean let out a low chuckle, and then cleared his throat before hearing Bobby laugh. "Yeah, I know - but he suggested getting some things for you.."

Dean watched the old man shrug, before he felt the weight of the man's body fall on the couch next to him. "It's good to see you Dean," he heard Bobby say, and could hear a smile in the old man's voice.

Dean smiled instantly and turned; clamping a hand on Bobby's shoulder, before he laughed softly. "It's been way too long, Robert Singer." Dean grinned, knowing that the use of Bobby's full name pissed him off, and ducked just before Bobby threw a punch.

"Ha, you're still fast.." Bobby muttered as he shook his head, and Dean stood up; his joints popping in protest, and his muscles aching more than before. "Ugh, I need a shower.." Dean muttered to himself as he made his way to the kitchen; where John was stocking the pantry.

"Hey dad," Dean said in a small voice as he shoved his hands into the pockets of his jeans; smiling softly at his father. John Winchester stopped what he was doing and turned around; smiling at Dean before walking to him.

"Dean," he whispered, before Dean felt the man's arms wrap around his shoulders. "Dad.." Dean gasped out, as his body was crushed against his dad's.

"Oops," he heard his dad say and there was the all-too-familiar laugh; the sound made Dean smile, and suddenly he felt at home. He chuckled to himself, and took a few deep breaths as John let go of him.

His father stood arms-length away from Dean; his large hands firm on Dean's shoulders, and a smile on his face. "It's good to have you home," Dean heard his father say, and he swallowed hard; smiling more at his father.

"It's good to be home, dad," Dean whispered back and clamped his hand on John's shoulder. "What did you get for me to eat?" He suddenly broke the sentiments, and saw John grin; his eyes crinkling slightly at the corners, and his dimples suddenly appearing.

"Well, I figured you'd want something home-cooked, and well.." He heard his father chuckle before adding, "And I've become domestic, sorta."

Dean laughed, harder than intended, and stared at John; his mouth hanging open. "Really?" He asked, clearing his throat as he watched his dad. "Yes, really," John replied and Dean felt him playfully hit his shoulder. "I can cook like no body's business." John grinned at his son, and Dean felt happy, and content now that his father was with him.

_*John's POV.*_

John watched Dean; his son, who was grown up now, and had been since a young age. John blamed himself for Dean being so grown up, and responsible, when he was just a kid; but he could only try and make up for it now.

"Steak or burgers?" John asked, loud enough so Bobby could hear. "Oh, steak of course," Dean replied and John could hear him chuckle; which made him laugh softly in response.

"Steak it is," John said as he began preparing dinner; grabbing pots and pans and placing them on the stove. "What else would you like?" He asked, his back turned on Dean as he turned the burner on the stove on and placed three steaks in a huge cast iron skillet.

"I have no idea, I don't think I'll be able to eat anything else.. Those things are huge." John chuckled at his son's remark and looked down at the rib-eyes in the skillet; nodding slightly. "They are bigger than normal, but.." John paused and drew in a quick breath before adding, "I figured you'd have an appetite, like always."

Once the words were out of his mouth, John heard his son's soft laughter and he instantly smiled. He had missed everything about Dean - from his smile, to the sound of his laughter, to the way he held a pistol in his hand. "Go in the living room with Bobby; I've got this." John glanced over his shoulder, and nodded to his son; smiling softly at the young man.

He watched Dean walk away, his eyes instantly finding their way on his back-side. John bit his lip at the way the tight denim of Dean's jeans fit his ass perfectly, and shook his head, quickly turning back to dinner.

It was eleven o'clock by the time John, Dean, and Bobby had finished dinner; Bobby was in the kitchen, washing the dishes while Dean and John sat on the couch.

John was happy that Dean was home; feeling complete, even if only one of his sons was around. He cleared his throat and brought the bottle of beer, that he had his hand loosely wrapped around, to his lips; draining the remaining liquid quickly. "Have you, uh.. heard from Sam?" He asked Dean; keeping his eyes glued on the TV, and away from his son.

He could hear Dean clear his throat, and chuckle, almost sounding nervous, before answering, "Yeah, he called.. He's doing fine, says he'll graduate a few months early."

John found himself smiling at the idea of his youngest son graduating from college; and having a real life, and career, for himself. "That's good.. I should call him.." John paused and looked at the bottle in his hand, "Or go see him."

John sighed heavily and pushed himself off the couch; swaying slightly as he got to his feet. "I'm going to sleep," he said in a quiet voice and looked down at Dean; suddenly smiling. "You'll still be here when I get up?" It was a strange thing, for him to ask Dean a question like that, but John had missed his son; he wanted to spend more time with him.

"Yeah, I'll be here for a while, if you guys don't mind." John's smile grew at the words, and Dean simply smiled back in response. "Alright, good," John said in a low, gruff voice and stretched; groaning as his back popped. "Goodnight, Dean. I'll see you in the morning."

He watched Dean salute to him and settle on the couch as he walked through the living room and to the stairs; slowly making his way to his room. As he reached the top step, his mind was filled with nothing but thoughts of he and Dean; sleeping together in the same bed, with their naked bodies pressed against one another's.

"Mm.." John let a groan out and shut his eyes, taking a deep breath. He had been having thoughts about Dean for weeks now, secretly hoping he would come home long enough for John to test the waters. He hadn't planned on fantasizing about his own son, but he just started thinking about the weirdest scenarios; he and Dean on a hunting trip, sharing a motel room.. and John would walk in on him in the shower.

The thoughts were going straight to John's cock and he swallowed hard; turning to walk down the narrow hallway. As he walked, John had only one thing on his mind; Dean, in his bed, naked. The thought made him stop three feet short of his bedroom door, his excitement noticeable in his jeans.

"God damnit," he muttered and closed his eyes; trying to collect his thoughts quickly. "Keep it together," he mumbled as he walked to his bedroom and pushed the door open, stepping in quickly. He shut the door as quietly as possible, and leaned his head against the cold, hard wood.

John took in a deep breath and lifted his hand to undo the buttons of his flannel shirt. As he slowly undressed, all John could think about was Dean pinning him against the wall; their bodies and lips pressed together. John let out another groan as he pulled his arms out of the long-sleeves and tossed the fabric onto the floor.

He took a deep breath as he slid his thin tank-top up his some-what toned stomach; his fingertips brushing along his lower abdomen. "Dean," John breathed softly as he slipped his fingers over his belt, quickly undoing it and jerking it through the loops.

John was rock hard and throbbing in his jeans, and the only thing on his mind was his son, taking the length of his cock into his mouth. The thought made John grab his cock through the denim that was covering it, and let out a soft whimper. _This is ridiculous_, he thought to himself as he quickly undid, and unzipped, his jeans; tugging them down, along with his boxers, in one swift movement.

He shuddered softly as his cock was freed from the cloth and slipped his hand down; barely running his fingertips over the shaft. "Dean, oh.." John moaned out as he wrapped his hand around the base of his cock, and tightened his grip slightly; slowly stroking up and down.

"Fuck me, Dean," John was muttering to himself as he closed his eyes and leaned his head back against the door; his fist pumping up and down his cock faster.

He tightened his grip when his hand reached the head of his cock, just before he stroked down the shaft. The action only made John groan louder, and buck his hips forward; causing the door to make a loud noise. _Fuck it_, John thought to himself, before his thoughts went in another direction..

_Dean was on his knees, looking up at him with his eyes full of lust. "Please, Dad," Dean whimpered out softly as John ran his fingers through the young man's hair. "Please let me suck your cock." The sound of his son begging made John harder than before, and he grinned; simply nodding to the man, as he unfastened his own jeans. "Just because you said please," John whispered; his fingers traveling down the curve of Dean's jaw, and slowly back up._

_He felt Dean tremble under his touch, and he chuckled softly; the gruff sound cutting through the sounds of their breathing. "I love when you beg," John mumbled seductively, as he pushed his jeans down, and watched Dean's eyes light up when his cock was revealed. He chuckled again, louder this time, and heard Dean moan, causing John to cock his head slightly. "What?" He asked the young man, as he slid his hand onto the back of Dean's neck._

_"You're just.." Dean started, and John watched as he looked up at him, continuing, "So fucking sexy." This time Dean chuckled, and John bit his lip; watching as the boy wasted no time in wrapping his mouth around John's cock. "Oh fuck," John moaned out as he slipped his fingers into Dean's hair; gripping the short locks tightly._

_His actions only made Dean groan against his cock, and John bucked his hips forward; sending his cock deeper down his son's throat. "Oh, Dean.." John groaned and held his sons head firmly while he moved his hips; fucking Dean's hot mouth, and groaning louder than before._

_"I'm going to fucking cum.." he half-muttered, half-screamed out, as he stopped bucking his hips and allowed Dean to take control. John felt the young man's mouth slide off his length, and felt Dean's hot tongue flick across the head of his cock. "Cum for me, daddy," Dean purred and John shut his eyes tightly; throwing his head back, as he bucked his hips slightly and came in Dean's awaiting mouth._

John was panting as he hastily stroked his cock; feeling his balls tighten, and his entire body tremble. He was on the verge of an orgasm, and he kept pumping his fist up and down his cock; thinking about fucking Dean.

"Dean!" He screamed, louder than intended, as his orgasm hit him hard. John came all over his hand, shirt, and on the floor, panting as his body slumped onto the floor. He was panting slightly as he was coming down from his orgasm, and he swallowed hard; opening his eyes to the mess he had just made.

He giggled, and abruptly stopped when he realized that he was _giggling_, and wiped his hand on his shirt. Attempting to stand, John heard a noise in the hallway and froze; gulping as he turned and opened the door, just a crack. He saw a tall figure standing at the bathroom door, but couldn't make out who it was. _Please be my imagination, or Bobby, please.. _He thought to himself, and shut his eyes, before closing the door once more.

John stripped his shirt off and cleaned himself up, before tossing his dirty clothes into a pile on the floor. "I'm just going to sleep naked," he declared, to no one but himself, as he slipped into bed; between the cool sheets. As John closed his eyes, his thoughts quickly went back to Dean; this time, in a whole new sense. He was thinking about _making love_ to Dean, not just fucking him; and he fell asleep with thoughts of he and his son; together, in a relationship, instead of just being fuck-buddies.


	2. Part two

_*Dean's POV*_

Dean startled awake when he heard a crash in the kitchen, followed by a tirade of curse words. He sat up instantly, and tried to still his breathing; listening to the voice in the kitchen yell out, "God damnit!"

Shuffling the blankets around, Dean looked down at his boxers and groaned at the sight; he was excited, and it was noticeable. He groaned and looked around for a sign of his dad, or Bobby, before he slipped off the couch and ran to the staircase. As he stepped onto the bottom step, the old wood creaked and Dean cursed under his breath.

"Dean? Are you up?" It was his father's voice, coming from the kitchen, that made Dean turn his head. He coughed once and cleared his throat, trying his best to make his voice calm, "Yeah, dad - I'm up."

Dean heard the sound of his own voice; becoming slightly high-pitched at the last second. He giggled, remembering all the times when he was a kid, and he would sneak into the bathroom in the middle of the night. Back then, they moved from one run-down, shitty motel room to another, and almost every room they had gotten was old, and rickety. Dean had always woke his dad up, walking across the floor and to the bathroom, and when his father had realized what he was doing, he would blush; instantly apologizing for disrupting him, and, in a way, his excitement.

"I'm just.. going to shower." Dean's voice became an octave higher, and he silently cursed himself for answering his father's question. He listened carefully, and swore he heard his dad laugh, before he responded with, "Okay, son - don't stay in there too long."

Dean nodded to himself, and yelled back, "Okay, I won't." He suddenly felt like a teenager, trying to hide things from his dad - like the Playboys he hid under the motel mattresses, or the girls he had sex with. But, like always, his dad found out about them all; drilling Dean with question after question, making sure he knew what he was doing, or that he knew why only adults read Playboy.

Sighing, Dean trudged up the stairs, running his hands through his messy hair. He made his way to the bathroom and pushed the door open; stepping in and instantly looking at himself in the mirror. Dean lifted his shirt and tossed it onto the floor, examining his own reflection.

The bruises on his hips were starting to show themselves, and the bite marks were slowly fading. Dean slid his hand down and pressed the biggest bruise, wincing slightly. He turned around and twisted his neck as far as he could; trying to look at his back. With a groan of disgust, he lightly traced his fingers over the scratch marks that ran along his shoulder blades, and down the middle of his back.

"Gah," Dean muttered as he turned back around, placing his hands on the sink. He was already regretting hooking up with his _old friend_, before he went on the job yesterday; but Dean had needed it. He needed to feel the man's chest against his back, and his hot breath on Dean's neck.

The thoughts sent shivers down Dean's spine, and he closed his eyes, letting a soft moan escape his lips. He had been hooking up with Charlie, a fellow hunter and old drinking buddy of Dean's, it had just happened... multiple times.

It hadn't occurred to Dean that Charlie had the same characteristics as his father; he was tall, middle-aged, and always had a scruffy face. He was also exceptionally skilled when it came to hunting, and he had cared for him, ironically, almost as his own father had.

Dean didn't realize any of those things, until he saw his father, and compared he and Charlie, side by side, in his mind. They had the same deep, gruff, tobacco-laced voice that Dean _always_ found himself attracted to. He had pushed every thought of Charlie out of his mind, and his similarities with John, and decided to focus on enjoying his time at home.

With a heavy sigh, Dean turned to the bathtub and quickly turned the shower on; yelping softly as the water hit the back of his head. He slipped his boxers off and kicked them aside, before stepping under the hot water. As the water poured over his body, Dean closed his eyes and dipped his head forward; letting the water cascade down his head, and over his back.

The feeling of hot water against his tired, aching muscles made Dean make a noise in the back of his throat. He sighed deeply, allowing the steam-filled air to enter his lungs, before he exhaled sharply.

He stood under the waterfall for what seemed like hours, before the hot water turned ice-cold. Yelping loudly, Dean shut off the water and scattered back against the shower wall; breathing heavily. He laughed at himself, before stepping out of the tub and reaching for a towel.

After the towel was wrapped securely around his waist, Dean opened the bathroom door and made his way downstairs. He walked into the living room and looked around for a sign of his dad or Bobby. When the coast was clear, he ran to his duffel bag and bent down; rummaging quickly through it. Dean grabbed a t-shirt, jeans, and a pair of boxers, before turning and retreating back upstairs.

_*John's POV*_

John watched as his son bent over his duffel bag, and beads of water poured down his tanned, smooth skin. He bit his lip to suppress a moan, and hid when Dean turned around; watching his son run back up the steps, his eyes locked on Dean's toned back, until it was no longer visible.

Once his son was out of sight, John leaned against the refrigerator, and sighed; shoving his hands in his pockets. Closing his eyes, the only thing that came to John's mind was the image of his son, half-naked, wet, and wrapped in a towel. The possible scenarios flooded John's mind, and his cock instantly responded to them all.

John thought about going after Dean; taking him into his room, and throwing him onto the bed. He thought about ripping the towel away from his son's waist, while his lips moved fervently against Dean's. John pictured their legs intertwining, while John pressed his hips against Dean's; the soft denim of his jeans moving against the young man's cock, and causing him to moan John's name.

He couldn't take it anymore, he _needed_ Dean; one way or another, he was going to to try to seduce his son. That wasn't something he had ever thought about, seriously, until he had seen Dean yesterday, and watched as he walked out of the room. Now that he had seen his son almost naked, he had to have him. And if Dean rejected him - at least he had tried, and he could go on with forgetting about him.

John pushed away from the fridge and opened his eyes as he made his way to the staircase. He ran up them, taking two at a time, until he reached the beginning of the hallway. John swallowed hard as he looked towards the bathroom door, and took a step; his legs feeling heavy as he began walking.

_Maybe I shouldn't do this_, John thought to himself, and snorted at the idea; he had already came this far, why would he go back now? _Maybe because Dean doesn't want you - you're his _father _for fuck's sake!_ John heard his own voice scream in his mind, and he wished he could shut it up - even for just a second.

John hadn't realized that, while he was walking, he had ended up in front of the bathroom door. He took a deep breath and knocked gently, hearing the sink running, before the water was shut off.

"Yeah?" He heard Dean say in a soft voice, and he could only imagine his son standing on the other side of the door; naked, and slightly wet from his shower.

"I was wondering, er.." John stopped for a second to compose himself, before continuing, "If you could come into my room when you're done." John breathed easier now that the sentence was out, and added in a hurried voice, "I just.. need to talk to you, that's all."

John was mentally kicking himself for asking the question so fast, and turned to walk away, before he heard Dean's laughter. "Yeah, I'll be right in there."

As the words were spoken, John's heart beat faster, and he tried to control his breathing. "Okay," he said in a quiet voice, before forcing his legs to take him to his own room. He stopped in front of the door and pushed it open, quickly walking in and sitting at the top of his bed; leaning against the headboard.

While waiting for Dean, John thought of a plan of action, for how he would seduce Dean. Kissing him, straight up, was out of the question; he didn't want to scare the young man. Explaining his feelings to Dean was the more logical, straight-forward way of doing things.

He could feel his heart pounding rapidly in his chest, and he shut his eyes tightly; breathing slowly, and concentrating on keeping his heart rate down. John was calming down, until he heard footsteps approach the bedroom door, and his eyes opened; his head snapping towards the door as Dean stood in front of it.

Dean was dressed in the usual - tight-fighting black t-shirt and tight demin jeans, that were ripped all over the legs. John could feel his heart thump harder than before, and he swallowed hard; feeling suddenly anxious, and nervous.

"Come in," John said in a quiet voice, and patted the spot on the bed in front of him. He watched as Dean walked, some-what bow-legged, and noticed how his hips swayed slightly. The whole thing was making John uncomfortably hard, and he pulled a pillow onto his lap; hoping Dean wouldn't notice.

"What's up?" Dean asked, and John shifted his eyes onto his son's, momentarily getting lost in them. Shaking his head, John sighed and brought one of his large hands to his face; rubbing it over his beard slowly. "Dean," he said, his voice getting even more gruff than before.

"I need to tell you something," he started off, before sliding his palm over his scuff; rubbing it harder than before. "I.. well.." He was at a loss for words; how could he possibly, in the right way, tell his son that he wanted him sexually? There was no easy way, or even right way of breaking that kind of news to anyone, so John took a deep breath and took the plunge.

"I've been having these thoughts, and feelings," John began to explain, moving his hands while he talked; looking down at his fingers as he absentmindedly fingered his rings. "And, well, they've been... about you." He scrunched his face up as the words came out; preparing himself for every worse-case scenario. Dean could laugh at his face, and call him a pervert; hell, the kid could even slap him, and dis-own him for the rest of his life. He didn't want that to happen, but he had to sacrifice it, if he wanted to be honest with his son.

After five minutes of silence, John looked up at Dean, whose mouth was hanging open. John chuckled and ran his hand through his own hair; watching Dean carefully. "I'm sorry," he apologized; his hand sliding down the side of his neck, and his fingernails digging into his own skin.

"What kind of thoughts?" Dean's voice was barely a whisper and John gasped softly, swallowing hard. "Thoughts about you, and me.." Even though John had thought those words a million times; turned them over in his mind, they sounded strangely alien to him.

"Okay, me and you.." Dean said; and it was more of a question, rather a statement. John could feel his cheeks grow warm, for the first time in ages, and he ducked his head; raking his fingernails up the back of his neck.

"Us fucking, okay? Me pounding my cock into you, and bending you over the bed." John bit his lip as the words came out of his mouth and closed his eyes; silently muttering, "Fuck, that wasn't what I was going to say.."

He heard Dean's soft chuckle and felt two strong hands on either side of his neck. John could feel Dean's thumbs under his chin and felt as his son lifted his chin up; opening his eyes to face him. "Crazy, huh?" John chuckled and sighed, sliding his hands on Dean's wrists, without thinking.

"Not really," his son responded, and John sucked in a breath; studying Dean's soft, green eyes as his long fingers traveled up the length of Dean's forearm. "What do you mean?" John asked, watching his son tremble as his fingers brushed further along the young man's skin.

"I've had thoughts, but.. I just didn't know it until now." John could heard Dean chuckling, and he smiled at the sexy sound. "Oh?" He asked, his voice low and seductive as he shifted forward; his face only inches away from Dean's.

"I've.. had.. thoughts about you too, while I was.." Dean stopped, and John could sense he was hesitating. "While you were...?" John tried to coax the answer out of his son, but Dean just shook his head; sighing softly.

John made a noise, that sounded like a throaty growl, and leaned forward; barely brushing his lips against Dean's. "Tell me, Dean," He whispered seductively as he slid his hands onto Dean's waist; pulling him closer.

"While I was with someone else." The sentence came out so fast that John had almost missed it, but he ran it back through his mind, to confirm what he heard, and nodded. "I see," John muttered, his lips closer to Dean's, and his hands gripping the man's waist firmly.

"You're not mad?" Dean's voice was full of panic, and John chuckled softly, shaking his head as he roughly pushed Dean back against the bed. "Oh, I'm not mad. _Jealous_ that another man has fucked you," His lips moved down to Dean's throat and he continued, "Jealous that another man has touched you in ways that I've only _dreamed_ of touching you.." He felt the young man tremble under his weight, and he smirked; dragging his teeth along Dean's skin.


	3. Part three

_*Dean's POV*_

Dean shut his eyes and swallowed hard; allowing a quiet moan to escape his lips. He hadn't exactly wrapped his head around what he and John were doing; but the same couldn't be said for his cock. Dean was rock hard the moment his father's breath hit his lips; the second he felt the man's strong hands around his hips, his excitement was noticeable.

"Do you want me, Dean?" He heard John ask, his voice low, husky, and full of seduction. Dean could only nod, feeling his father's teeth grazed along his neck. "Yes," Dean hesitated and bit his lip, mumbling so softly that he _hoped_ John wouldn't hear, "Captain."

He felt John's lips stop on his skin, and could almost feel them curl into a smile, before he felt his father's hot breath on his neck. "Captain?" Dean heard surprise, confusion, and also excitement in John's voice, and he chuckled nervously; shifting under his father slightly.

"Yeah.. I.. uh.." Dean laughed and titled his head back, shutting his eyes as he drew in a deep breath. He chuckled again before continuing softly, "You know, like.. you could be my captain.." Dean sighed and opened up his eyes; feeling John's head pull away. He looked up at his father, studying his eyes for a second, with the smallest smile on his face.

"So, I'm your captain.." John began, and Dean could feel his lips moving against his own; causing him to moan softly. "So that makes you.. my second in command?" Dean's breath caught in his throat, once he realized his father was going along with his role-play.

He cleared his throat and chuckled, sliding his hand up John's side; pushing his t-shirt up his skin. "More like... First Officer.." Dean swallowed hard as his fingertips brushed along his father's side, and he felt the man shiver against his touch.

"Like Spock?" John's voice was soft against Dean's jaw, and he only nodded; closing his eyes tightly, and gripping John's side firmly.

"Exactly like Spock.." Dean muttered, the thought of his father role-playing with him, only made his cock harder. "So, you'd be Captain Kirk.." Dean shook his head once the words were out and made a face, correcting himself, "No, you'd be Captain Winchester."

He heard the husky sound of his father's laughter, and felt hot breath against his skin. "Captain John Winchester... I like it." Dean felt his heart beat faster as he dug his fingernails into his dad's skin, raking them up his side slowly.

"So, you'll play along?" Dean's voice was quiet, which was unusual, but he didn't know how to act around his father. Around any other man, even Charlie, he was dominant, and persistent. He'd always take the lead, and could convince anyone to do just about anything he'd ask.

He felt John nod and felt his lips against his throat once more; shivering as he took in the sensation. "I'll be your Captain." The words were quiet, and hot against his skin, and Dean shuddered under his father.

Dean chuckled and suddenly grinned; slipping his other hand onto John's hip, before turning his head. "Captain Winchester, please report for duty," Dean whispered softly, and seductively, into John's ear, and felt the man shudder on top of him.

Hearing John growl, Dean lifted himself off the bed and pressed his hips against his dad's; eliciting a growl out of him. Dean grinned more and whispered, "Your First Officer needs you, Captain." The words came naturally to Dean, even though this was his first time playing this role.

"What seems to be the problem?" John's voice was low, and full of lust, which only made Dean harder. He was having trouble concentrating on not pushing his dad onto the bed, and ripping his clothes of; he wanted to play this out, and see where it would end up.

"I need you, Captain," Dean whispered in a soft, sexy voice as he slowly licked John's ear, biting at the cartilage softly. The actions, and he couldn't tell if the _words_ were causing it, had made John fall on top of Dean; their hips pressed tightly together.

"Why do you need me? Are we under attack?" Dean could hear how clearly his father spoke, and he grinned; wrapping his legs around the man's waist.

"No, no.. we're not," Dean started off, as he bit down John's neck, continuing softly, "I need to speak with you, Captain." Once he spoke the words, Dean bit down, hard, on his father's skin, and sucked softly at the bite mark.

John shuddered against him, and Dean could hear him making small growling noises in the back of his throat. "What is it? I'm very busy.. I have more pressing matters to attend to."

Dean couldn't stop himself from giggling at the irony of that sentence as he slid his hands further up John's shirt. "I have a _very_ pressing issue you might want to take a look at.." His words flowed much easier than he had thought they would, and he placed his hands on John's ribcage.

His thumb ran along his father's ribs slowly, as he licked up the curve of John's ear one more time, this time moaning softly against the skin. "Please, Captain, it's important.." Dean's voice was low, seductive, and slightly playful as he dug his fingertips into John's skin.

"Oh?" was his father's response, and Dean could feel his hips moving against his own. "Yes, captain," Dean moaned softly, as he slipped his hands further up John's sides; pushing his shirt up his skin slowly.

_*John's POV*_

John growled as he felt the soft fabric move up his skin, and he pulled away; only to sit on Dean's lap. He groaned and shifted slightly, his covered cock rubbing against Dean's.

He lifted his arms, allowing Dean to easily remove his shirt and watched his son carefully; his eyes locked on Dean's. Once the shirt was off, John leaned down once more; his hands on the bed, on either side of Dean's neck. "Tell me, what is it that's so pressing?" John made his voice as low as he could, while hovering over Dean; his face inches away from the young man's.

He felt his son tremble underneath his body, and he grinned, waiting for a response. "My cock, captain," Dean replied in a soft voice, and those three words made John's cock throb in his jeans.

"But, Dean, you're my First Officer; this isn't right," John whispered softly, his lips barely brushing over Dean's soft lips. He could feel Dean's lips tremble against his own, and he smiled; slowly moving his hips down against his son's.

"But I want you, Captain," John could hear hesitation in Dean's voice, and he bit the man's bottom lip softly. "There's more you're not telling me," he growled as he tugged Dean's lip between his teeth.

"I _need_ you." The words hit John in so many ways; it made his heart beat rapidly, and it also make his cock twitch in anticipation. He didn't know if his son was serious about needing him, or if he was just playing into the role; either way, it was good enough for John.

"Okay," he whispered as he let go of Dean's lip, and sat up; groaning painfully as his erection pressed against his eldest son's. John wasted no time in allowing his hands to wander; sliding them up Dean's shirt, and over his smooth, soft, warm skin. A moan escaped his lips as he ran his thumb along the young man's toned abs, and down just above his belt.

"Are you sure you want this?" John asked in a quiet voice; half worrying that Dean would change his mind, and half _expecting_ him to. He looked down at his son, watching his chest rise and fall with each breath; and seeing a smile play at the corner of his lips.

"I'm sure, Captain," Dean whispered, and that was all the encouragement John needed. He slid his hand down between his and Dean's hips, and quickly began fumbling with Dean's zipper. After a few curse words, John finally had it undone, and the button unfastened.

John had lifted his hips, and nodded to Dean; signaling for him to slip his own pants down. His eyes wandered as the young man began tugging the denim down his smooth, toned legs; letting out a whimper as he saw the bulge in Dean's boxers.

He slid off Dean's lap and stood at the side of the bed; sliding his hands to his own jeans, and quickly undoing them. He tugged them down slowly, teasing his son a bit before he kicked the denim off, and to the side. He looked down at Dean; his eyes taking in every inch of the beautiful image in front of him. John took a deep breath and smiled down at his son, before he leaned over him; his lips locking with Dean's, as his hands slipped onto his back.

John's lips never left Dean's as he pulled him forward, and slipped his hands to the hem of his shirt. He bunched the fabric up between his fingers, before roughly pulling it up; breaking the kiss just long enough to pull the fabric over Dean's head.

His lips were locked on Dean's once more, moving passionately against the young man's in a heated kiss. As they kissed, John crawled onto the bed, straddling Dean as his hands rested upon his hips. John's head was swimming, and he felt a bit dizzy; he couldn't believe this was happening. _Remember to breathe, and stay calm,_ he reminded himself as he shut his eyes and lapped his tongue against Dean's lips; almost as if he were begging for entrance.

Dean's lips parted and John could feel them wrap around his tongue, which made him let out a long groan. He shifted himself on top of his son, so that his cock was pressed against the young man's as his tongue slid into Dean's mouth.

He sighed once he gained access to Dean's hot mouth, and his tongue hungrily sought out the young man's. John let out a moan as he felt his son's tongue push, roughly, against his own; and he swirled his own tongue over Dean's.

John felt intoxicated, just by kissing Dean, and touching his smooth skin, and feeling it against his own. He also felt as if he were dreaming, and that he would wake up, as he always did - painfully hard, and disappointed. But, as he felt Dean buck his hips against his own, the feeling that this was just his imagination slowly started to fade.

John growled into the kiss and cupped Dean's jaw in one of his large, slightly shaking, hands. Gliding his thumb over his son's cheek, John held himself up with his free hand; his hips moving steadily against Dean's.

Dean was first to break the kiss; pulling away and panting hard, as John dipped his head; slowly licking the young man's throat. It seemed like they were kissing for hours, and when it was broken, John's head was spinning with lust. He sat up straight and slipped his hands down; hooking his thumbs under the waistband of Dean's boxers, his eyes locked on the young man's.

As he slowly pulled the fabric down, John watched his son's reactions; the way he opened his mouth slightly, and licked his lips slowly as the soft fabric slipped down his skin, made John moan. Lifting his hips, John pulled the boxers down further and whispered to Dean, "Kick them off."

As Dean obeyed, John sat up on his knees and started pulling his own boxers off, before his son pushed his hands away. "I've got it," Dean whispered, and John could hear lust filling his voice.

Before he knew it, John was pushed onto the bed, with Dean hovering over him; grinning wickedly. "What are you doing?" John asked, his voice laced with surprise, and anticipation.

"Just watch," his son replied, and that's exactly what John did; he watched as Dean dipped his head down, and started kissing his chest. A moan tore through John's lips as he felt the warm, soft lips against his skin, and he struggled to watch as Dean kissed down his stomach.

"Dean," John breathed and lifted a hand; running his long fingers through the young man's short hair. The action only seemed to make Dean more eager and John could feel his teeth sinking into his skin. "Oh, fuck," he moaned out and closed his eyes; tilting his head back.

The biting and kissing trailed down, until they finally stopped just above John's boxers. He forced himself to open his eyes and look down at his son; his mouth open slightly, and his breathing turning into soft panting. Dean looked up at John with a grin on his face, before he ducked down; taking the fabric between his teeth and tugging slowly.

It was more than John could take, and he whimpered; begging Dean to just take them off already, so he could fuck him. His impatience only made the young man chuckle and move slower. As the fabric slipped off his hips, and over his cock, John let out a series of noises; various moans, growls, and un-spoken pleas, that came in the form of soft groans.

"Please, Dean... Hurry up.." John pleaded with his son, and bit his lip; feeling his cock throb in his boxers, until it was finally freed of its cage. John breathed a sigh of relief and lay his head back, tilting it to the side a bit as he watched Dean slip the boxers down his legs.

"Mmm," John heard Dean moan and looked up; grinning at his son as he lifted a hand to run along his own cock. "Like what you see?" John asked, almost sounding cocky, as he ran his fingers down his length slowly.

"I do," Dean whispered, just before his lips came crashing down against John's once more. He couldn't help but groan as he felt the soft lips against his own, and he slipped his hands onto Dean's hips; pulling the young man down on top of him.

"Dean," John breathed between each kiss, and closed his eyes as he felt Dean's hand run along his shaft. "Dean, fuck me.." John was close to begging for his son to fuck him; to just slide his cock into his ass. He was above begging for sexual favors from anybody else, but from Dean? He would beg all night if he needed to, just to have Dean fuck him, or even suck his cock.

"Yes, Captain," the words fell hot against John's lips as he felt his legs being spread. He let out a low growl, and wrapped his legs around Dean's, lifting his hips slightly; giving Dean access to his awaiting hole.


	4. Part four

_*Dean's POV*_

Dean was grinning down at John as he pulled back a bit; playfully teasing his father and running his fingers up the man's sides slowly. "You want me to fuck you, Captain?" Dean murmured as he leaned down; brushing his lips along the curve of John's jaw.

His father growled in response and Dean felt a hand wrap around his hard, throbbing cock. "If you don't fuck me," his father began in a whisper, and moaned out softly, "I'll fuck you, you got that?"

Dean bit John's skin and laughed softly; resting his hands on his dad's chest as his lips trailed along the man's jaw. Breathing softly against his father's skin, Dean slowly raked his fingernails along his ribcage, and up his chest slowly.

The action caused John to tremble underneath him, and Dean listened as he drew each shaky breath in. "You're going to fuck me?" He whispered seductively in John's ear, just before biting the lobe softly.

"God, fuck.." Was the response Dean got from his father, and he grinned; tugging John's earlobe roughly. "Hm?" Dean purred as he kissed along John's neck softly, raking his fingernails down the old hunter's stomach; inching them closer to his cock. 

"Dean.." The word was soft, and fell hot against Dean's neck as he tightly shut his eyes; pressing his hips against John's. "John.." Dean moaned against the man's skin quietly, before pulling away; his lips instantly finding their way to his father's.

John's mouth was open, and Dean groaned as he eagerly slipped his tongue between his father's lips. Closing his eyes, Dean tightly pressed his body against John's; their chests moving against each other as Dean wrapped his hands around his father's hips.

Dean was kneeling between John's legs, as they were wrapped around his own waist, and he was moving the other man's hips against his own. Their cocks slid against each other, and Dean let out a whimper, muffled by their heated kiss. Dean could feel John's hands on his back, and his fingernails digging and scratching at his skin; causing him to dig his fingertips into the man's hips.

Their tongues wrestled roughly; pushing and swirling over one another's, as Dean continued moving his hips against John's even rougher. When he couldn't take it anymore, Dean pulled from the kiss and panted hard; leaning down to whisper, breathlessly, "Fuck me, dad.."

His own words made him groan, and Dean pulled his head away; looking down at John, as the man grinned up at him. "You sure?" The hunter asked, his fingers trailing up Dean's spine, causing him to shiver and bite his lip. "I'm positive, Captain."

Dean grinned back down at his father, just before he felt strong arms wrap around his torso, and John's legs un-tangle from around his waist. He let out a soft whimper, not wanting his father to let go, until he was suddenly flipped over onto his back; staring up at John.

John just grinned at him, before leaning in close, and Dean could _feel_ his hot breath against his skin. He felt his father's beard rub against his cheek softly, before hearing him whisper, "I'm going to fuck you so hard.."

The words only made Dean want it more, and he started begging; _begging_ for John to take him, to fuck him as roughly as he could, and not let up. As he begged, Dean wrapped his legs around John's waist, and nipped softly at his ear.

"Please fuck me, dad.." Dean whimpered against the curve of John's jaw, and he felt his legs be pushed back softly. "Mm, you're such a bad boy, Dean.." John's soft words made Dean's cock ache and he whimpered louder. "Fuck me, John."

-

_*John's POV*_

John had a tight grip on Dean's thighs; pushing them back against his chest slightly as he lined his cock up with his son's tight ass. "Do you want me to fuck you?" He whispered softly, his body hovering over Dean's, and his cock pressing against his tight hole.

"Yes, oh god.." Dean whimpered out, and John bit his lip; pushing his hips forward slightly, watching as his son made a face. He was about to ask if Dean was okay, until he got a nod - a signal to John that he could keep going further.

John sighed deeply and slid his hands up Dean's smooth, toned thighs, until they rested upon his hips. Gripping his son's hipbones roughly, John pushed the head of his cock into Dean's entrance; groaning as his tightness wrapped around his cock.

"Dean." The word came out in a quiet, almost breathless whisper as John leaned down, between Dean's legs, and kissed him softly. He could feel Dean panting against his lips, and that made him thrust his hips forward once; his cock half-way into Dean.

John felt as his son's knees hooked on his shoulders, and he adjusted himself; slowly pulling out of Dean's ass. He pulled his lips away and heard Dean whimper loudly, and suck in a breath; stopping to look at his son, before pushing back into him.

"Dad, fuck me," Dean moaned out, and John swallowed hard; obeying as he slammed the entire length of his cock into Dean's hot, tight ass. "Dean," John growled as he dropped his head; leaning his forehead against Dean's shoulder, as he began slowly fucking him.

Soon, Dean's hips were moving against his own, and John shut his eyes; feeling Dean's ass engulf his cock every time he slammed it back in. The feeling made John throb deep inside of Dean, and he could feel himself getting closer to reaching his orgasm.

Sitting up straight, John gripped Dean's hips tighter; pulling them onto his own as he began fucking his son harder. He watched as Dean threw his head back, and he heard the moans that came from his lips. John thought about those lips wrapped around his cock, and he felt his entire body shudder; feeling his balls tighten up.

"I'm going to cum.." John groaned out and slammed his hips, roughly, against Dean's once more, before filling him with his hot cum. "Dean, oh, fuck.. Dean.." John gasped as his orgasm slowed, and stopped; panting heavily as he dropped his head, kissing Dean's throat.

John was breathing hard against his son's skin as he slipped his hand between their bodies; wrapping his hand around Dean's cock. Tightly wrapping his hand around his son's shaft, John quickly starting stroking; wanting, and _needing_, to make Dean cum.

"Cum for me, Dean," John muttered as he kissed up Dean's throat; slowly licking his slick skin. "Cum for daddy," he grinned once the words were out, and heard Dean groan; his hips moving up against his hand.

"I'm going to.. fuck.." John moved his hand up and down faster, fully intent on stroking Dean as he rode his orgasm out. "Dad!" Dean screamed, and John moaned against his skin; feeling hot, thick streams of cum hit his hand and stomach.

"Good boy," he muttered quietly, kissing up Dean's chin, and to his lips; pecking them softly and smiling down at the young man. Dean was panting, and John grinned softly; pulling away and slipping his hand off Dean's cock. "You made a mess," John declared before chuckling and bringing his hand to his mouth; slowly licking all of Dean's cum off his skin.

He could hear his son groan as he cleaned himself up, and he swallowed hard; leaning down to lick the remaining cum off Dean's cock. John felt his son's hips move forward as his tongue flicked across the sensitive head, and he could only laugh softly.

John pulled out of Dean with a groan, and fell to the bed beside him; running his fingers along his stomach and gathering as much cum as he could. "Want a taste?" He whispered softly to Dean and smirked at him; holding his fingers up to the young man.

He watched his son take his fingers in his mouth and suck softly; causing John to moan and close his eyes. Hearing Dean giggle, John blinked his eyes open and smiled at the young man. "Taste good?" He asked, as he adjusted on the bed; lying next to Dean, so that he could wrap his arm around him.

"Mm, but I'm sure _you_ taste better.." John bit his lip softly and chuckled; kissing Dean's shoulder and mumbling against the soft, warm skin, "You can find out whenever you want.."

John watched as Dean's cheeks turned slightly red, and he laughed softly; kissing his son's lips gently. "I missed you," he whispered; all of his wild, lustful thoughts, and feelings, flying out the window.

"I missed you too." His son's words put a smile on his face, and John wrapped his arms tightly around Dean's torso; pulling the young man's body against his own. Closing his eyes, John yawned quietly and kissed Dean's shoulder over and over; a smile never leaving his lips.

_Dean settled against John's chest and closed his eyes; listening to the soft, rhythmic sound of his father's breathing, while fingertips ran along his skin gently. He was content, lying there in John's arms; away from the pain of the horrid life he'd known for the last 20 years of his life._

John nestled his head into the crook of Dean's neck, and closed his eyes; breathing deeply as Dean ran his fingers along the back of his hand. He breathed in deeply; taking in the scent of Dean's skin, smiling softly to himself.

They were happy, for once, and John could finally let himself accept the feelings he had been denying for so long. He had fucked him, like he wanted, and he was happy - and he would be happy if it was the only time he got to do it.

John had hoped, though, that he and Dean could continue to be together - either romantically, or just sexually. He just had to make sure Dean wanted the same things as he did - sex, love, romance every once in a while; the usual that came along with their... situation.

Dean's breathing got softer, and John could hear him snoring lightly; a smile suddenly breaking across his lips, while he kissed his son's soft skin. "Good night, First Officer," John whispered against Dean's warm, slightly sticky neck.

He covered himself, and Dean, up with a blanket and settled back into bed; closing his eyes and breathing deeply. John's thoughts were filled with playbacks of what had just happened, and he swallowed hard.

There was a loud banging on the door, and John awoke, startled and confused. It was dark in his room, and the bed felt heavy beside him, as he looked down at it; seeing the soft silhouette of Dean lying beside him. John sucked in a deep breath and ran a hand through his hair; exhaling slowly.

As he pushed the blankets off the bed, he turned to look at the sleeping body next to him, and smiled; his heart suddenly filling up with a love he hadn't felt in a long time. John stood up slowly, and quietly, cautious not to wake Dean; making his way to the dresser in the corner of his room.

He had guessed it was seven o'clock, and that meant Bobby was out - drinking, like always, and he and his son had the house to themselves. John smiled at the thought and pulled a pair of pajama bottoms out of one of the wooden drawers.

John quickly got dressed and walked across the cold, hard wood, and to the bedroom door. Just as he began opening the door, John heard a noise coming from the staircase. He froze; his breathing catching in his throat as he reached for the shotgun he left beside the door.

Shotgun in hand, John opened the door open with the end of the barrel, and poked his head out. It was pitch black, and John groaned; cursing himself for not getting a flashlight, as he stepped into the hallway. The noise grew louder as he made his way down the hall, until he stopped; the floor panels creaking under his weight.

He silently cursed once the scratching noise had stopped, and swallowed hard; holding the butt of the gun against his shoulder. John crept down the hallway and snapped around the corner; expecting to see the culprit, but instead seeing nothing but darkness.

"What the fuck?" John muttered, as he shook his head and lowered the gun to his side. "Oh well," he mumbled as his pace quickened as he walked to the top of the stairs.

He saw two, bright red eyes move through the darkness; staring straight at him. His heart beat raced as he lifted the gun; aiming at the eyes in front of him. Once the barrel of the shotgun was pointed, the eyes disappeared, and John could hear a little girl giggle. "Fuck," he muttered, and turned back; walking back to his bedroom, and back to Dean.

"I'm too old for this," he thought as he pushed the door open and flipped on the light. His heart dropped to the pit of his stomach when he saw the scene that lay in front of him.

Blood, everywhere; on the sheets, on the floor, on the walls, and on the windowsill. Dean was no longer in the bed, and John felt his stomach heave slightly; threatening to empty it's contents on the floor. As he stepped inside the room, John already knew what happened.

John walked around the bed, swallowing hard and bracing himself for the worst-case scenario. As he rounded the corner of the bed, John's eyes fell on the floor - on Dean, lying lifeless on the hard wood; his heart ripped from his chest.

He could feel tears rimming his eyes as he stared down at his son; motionless and bloody. Tears fell down his cheeks, and John lifted a hand; wiping the wetness away quickly, before dropping to his knees.

With a shaky hand, John touched Dean's soft, already cold, skin and let out a broken sob. "Dean.." He sobbed quietly, his fingers trembling as they ran across his son's lips; the lips he had just kissed. The very lips that seemed as if they were molded for his own, and that were soft and sweet.

Closing his eyes, John stood up and clenched his fists; turning and punching the wall, leaving a huge hole in it. He couldn't believe, in the time he had been outside of the room, something had murdered Dean. But what was more important, was the fact that he didn't know why something wanted to murder his son.

John walked away from the scene, both fists balled tight, and tears drying against his cheeks. He'd never been one to cry - except on the day he married Mary, when both of his sons were born, and now this. He was furious; angry, upset, hurt, confused, and most of all lost. John had finally spilled his secret to Dean, and not five hours after - his son was dead, gone; killed by some fucking demon.


	5. Part five

_*John's POV*  
_  
John awoke in a panic; his hands instantly clutching at the body beside him, but touching nothing but the soft cotton of his bed sheets. His heart seemed to skip a beat as he jumped out of bed; his feet colliding with the cold floor harder than intended. He grabbed a pair of pajama bottoms and tugged them on quickly as he walked, almost tripping over the pant legs.

"Dean?" John's voice wavered slightly; in fear that his dream-more like _nightmare_- was coming true. The air was colder than before, and every breath John sucked into his lungs felt like ice. He listened to the floorboards creak under his weight, and he shut his eyes; silently praying Dean was okay.

"Dean!" His voice rang out louder, and he heard the his echo bounce off the walls. John walked towards the bedroom door and pushed it open; his ears straining against the dark and silent night. He started wondering if he had really spent the afternoon fucking his son, or if it had just been a dream.

Shaking his head, John pushed the thought from his mind as he walked down the hallway; trying to see through the darkness.

"DEAN!" He screamed; his voice louder than before, as he walked through the pitch black house. John heard noises on the lower level of the house, and hurried down the stairs; skidding to a stop as he saw Dean standing in the kitchen. His son was surrounded by fallen beer cans, and he had a look of surprise on his face.

John could feel his heartbeat quicken, and then steady as he saw Dean. The young man looked up when John cleared his throat; giving his father a sly grin. "I didn't wake you-" The young hunter started, and John lifted a hand; silencing the young man, and grinning.

"No, you didn't. I thought something was in here, and I was going to kill Bobby for not demon-proofing his house better." John chuckled, absentmindedly, and walked forward; bending to pick up the beer cans that surrounded Dean.

"Nah, Bobby's got this place sealed tighter than a nun." Dean giggled, and John reveled in the sound; it was slightly husky, and it ended in a small chuckle. He could listen to that sound all day, and in fact he _wanted_ to - he wanted to take Dean somewhere, far away from the demons, and hell they fought daily. He wanted it just to be the two of them, in a peaceful place - together, and he wanted to hear Dean makes a vast variety of noises.

John found himself laughing, a rough growl-sounding noise that came deep from his chest, and straightened up; handing dented cans to Dean. "Yeah, you're right about that - nothing can come in here, or at least, not willingly." John shrugged as he snaked past his son, and to the refrigerator; opening the door slowly.

"What are you doing out of bed, anyway?" John's voice was barely above a whisper as he leaned forward; sticking his head in the open fridge. His eyes scanned over the contents - bottles, and cans, of beer, liquor and wine; lunch meat, and cheese, and a carton of milk, along with a container of orange juice.

As he grabbed for the juice, he felt Dean's hips against his ass; causing him to groan and grit his teeth together. "Nothing.." Dean's voice was full of seduction and John shut his eyes.

"Dean, not here," John whispered firmly, pulling back, juice in hand, and turning to look at his son. He could see pain flash across Dean's face for a split second, before the young man shrugged and grinned.

"Bobby's not home." Dean's voice was low, and John could hear the insinuation behind the words. "Dean.." The words came out in a low whimper, and John rolled his eyes; feeling his son's body press against his own.

"I'm serious, Dean," John growled, tightly shutting his eyes as he tried to restrain himself from throwing Dean to the ground and fucking him senseless. It took everything he had to keep his composure, as he placed his hands on Dean's shoulders; pushing him back slightly.

"If you want to do this, we can go upstairs." John's words were firm, and quiet; his eyes locked on Dean's. He watched a light flicker in his son's eyes, and then the young man grinned.

"And if I don't listen?" The young man's words sent a shiver down John's spine and he took a deep breath. "Will you reprimand me, Captain?" John could feel Dean's words against his neck; his hot breath against his skin.

"Yes, I will," John growled, as best as he could, and swallowed hard; feeling the young man's teeth sink into his flesh. He wrapped his arms around Dean; his hands firmly pressed against the young man's ass. As he dug his fingertips into the soft flesh, he could _feel_ Dean's whimpers against his neck, and he grinned; pulling his son's hips against his own.

The whimpers caused John's cock to harden against Dean; which only made the young man yelp and moan louder against John's flesh.

"You want your Captain to fuck you again, Dean?" John's words were soft, yet full of lust and seduction; all his fears of being caught fading. Dean whimpered in response and John tilted his head, raising an eyebrow. "What was that?" He asked, chuckling softly as he pulled Dean against him even harder.

"Yes, I want you to fuck me.. c-c-captain.." Dean's words faltered and that only made John hotter. His cock was rock-hard and ready for Dean again, as he rocked his hips against the young man's.

"Is that so?" John nibbled Dean's earlobe, and breathed the words against his skin; smirking as his son trembled against his touch. "Y-yes s-s-sir.." Dean stuttered out again, and ended the sentence in a moan; caused by John biting down on his neck.

"Mm, my good boy.." John murmured lovingly, as he kneaded Dean's ass harder than before; his fingertips digging roughly into the covered flesh. He grinned, while pulling away from the gorgeous young man standing in front of him. "If you want it, come get it," he whispered, as he walked backwards to the staircase; grinning all the while as Dean stood in the kitchen, looking helpless.

He chuckled before turning; sprinting up the stairs, two at a time, and looking back at Dean. The young man was following him, quickly, and John could notice the hard-on pressing against his boxers.

"Hurry up," John whispered, hastily, and walked into the bedroom; stripping his pajama bottoms off the moment he was through the door. As he walked to the bed, John could hear the floorboards in the hallway squeak, as Dean walked over them; and grinned.

_*Dean's POV*_

Dean hurried into the bedroom; stopping short when he saw John, standing naked in front of the bed, with his hard cock in his hand. Swallowing hard, he stepped into the room and tried to keep his eyes on the older hunter's, but instead, they averted to John's cock.

A groan escaped Dean's lips, and suddenly his cock was throbbing, painfully; almost as if it were begging to be released. He reached down to pull the fabric away from his throbbing erection, but his hand was pushed away by his father's.

"Not yet," John whispered, before Dean felt the man's lips crash against his own; his large hands finding their way to his hips. Dean closed his eyes slowly and parted his lips; allowing John's tongue to find his own, while he was being pulled toward the bed.

Before he knew it, Dean was pushed onto the bed, with his father hovering above him. "Turn over," John whispered, and the words sounded rushed; almost as if John was afraid of being caught.

Dean obeyed and turned onto his hands and knees; playfully swaying his hips back and forth for John. "What are you going to do?" He asked in a playful voice, before feeling the fabric of his boxers slide down; releasing his cock from its grip. Dean groaned as his cock was free from the soft cotton, and as the fabric slipped down his thighs.

His boxers were off before he knew it, and Dean wiggled his ass once more; waiting for what John had planned. Suddenly, he felt his father's strong, rough hand against his ass.

"You've been such a bad boy, Dean," John whispered in Dean's ear, and the words were hot against his skin. He shuddered and swallowed hard, closing his eyes as he bit his bottom lip softly; nodding to John.

"I think you deserve to be punished," Dean could feel John's lips moving against the base of his neck, and he trembled slightly. "Don't you?" The words made Dean's cock throb with anticipation, as he nodded and whimpered. "Yes, I do.."

John's rough laughter rumbled against Dean's skin, and he could feel his arms shaking under his weight; threatening to collapse. As his father kissed along his shoulder blades, Dean could feel his hand caressing his ass roughly. He whimpered, moaned, and growled as his father's calloused hand moved across his smooth skin.

Moving his hips back against his father's hand, Dean whimpered louder; begging to be punished, and begging for John's cock once more. "Please, oh," Dean whimpered out, momentarily biting his lip before continuing, "Please punish me, Captain."

The words eliciting a rough chuckle from John, and Dean felt his hand pull away from his back-side. "Okay.." The word was hushed; low and gruff as Dean chewed on his bottom lip, awaiting his father's punishment.

He heard it before he felt it; the sound of skin slapping, roughly, against skin, and then the stinging sensation came seconds after. Dean yelped as his father's hand collided with his asscheek, and ducked his head onto his hands; chewing roughly on his lower lip.

His father's hand pulled away once more, and Dean felt him slap him, harder, and he whimpered louder; his cock throbbing in response to John's spanking. "John," Dean whimpered out, as he pulled his face away from his hands; his harsh breathing speeding up.

"Yes?" John's voice was low, again, but this time full of lust and passion. Dean swallowed hard; both because the sound of John's voice was sexy, and because the feeling of his father spanking him made him harder than before.

"Fuck me," Dean whimpered in a quiet voice, as he looked over his shoulder; biting his lip as he watched John quietly.

"I don't know, Dean.." Dean saw his father grin, and he groaned; whimpering, and begging for John to fuck him. He was promising him everything he could imagine; blowjobs, hand-jobs, the opportunity to tie him up and fuck him - anything that would get John to shove his cock into him.

"Alright, I'll fuck you.. if you suck my cock first." Dean watched as the grin on John's face grew, and he swallowed hard; nodding in agreement.

"Okay," Dean said in a small voice as he turned around; his hand instantly moving to John's hard, awaiting cock. He took a deep breath and slowly stroked his father's cock, before lapping his tongue across the head slowly; smirking as he heard John groan.

Shifting slightly, Dean winced and closed his eyes; forgetting that his ass was sore, but shrugging it off. He slowly took as much of John's cock as he could, into his mouth; sucking softly as he ran his fingers along the underside of his father's cock. The actions made John tremble, and Dean felt fingers in his hair; gripping the short, brown locks tightly.

Dean groaned against the cock in his mouth and started sucking harder; bobbing his head up and down slowly, as he ran his tongue under John's erection. The man shivered and tightened his grip on Dean's hair, before pulling his mouth down on his cock; causing Dean to gag softly.

"Sorry.." Dean heard the soft apology and shook his head, as much as he could, before looking up at John; pulling his mouth off his cock. He flicked his tongue over the slit slowly, and wrapped his hand around the base; stroking up as slow as he possibly could.

"Jesus fucking Christ, Dean.." The comment made Dean giggle and lap his tongue across the head of John's cock slowly, as he stroked the shaft a bit faster.

"Yes, Captain?" Dean tried his best to keep his voice small, quiet, and almost shy, as he stared up at his father. He grinned slowly as he started stroking John more; his hand pumping up and down his length faster than before.

John's head tilted back, and a growl came from his throat; followed by a moan. "Get the fuck on the bed.." The sentence came out in a throaty moan, and it was a command, that much Dean knew.

"And what if I don't?" He was honestly curious to see what would happen if he disobeyed his father; would he get tied up? Spanked again? The possibilities made him groan, and his cock throbbed painfully.

"Then I'll fucking make you get on the bed, Dean." His father's words were rough, and Dean moaned at them; biting his lip before standing up. "Make me," he mumbled, looking John straight in the eye.

In the blink of an eye, Dean was pushed, face-down, against the bed; with John pressed against him. "I told you to listen," John mumbled, and Dean could feel his cock pressing against his ass.

"And I told you to make me." Dean bit his lip, to stop himself from giggling, and moved a hand to touch his cock. Suddenly, his hands were pinned on the bed, on either side of his head.

"You're not allowed to," John groaned in Dean's ear, and he felt the head of his cock slip into his ass. Yelping softly, Dean closed his eyes and gripped the bed sheets; hearing John whisper, "Not allowed to fucking touch yourself."

Dean moaned at the words, and as John slammed his entire length into him; causing him to scream out.

He heard John groan and could feel his hot breath against the back of his neck as his father whispered, ".. Do I have to shut you up, too?"

Gulping, Dean shook his head and tightly shut his eyes; biting down on his lower lip. He heard John's low, gruff chuckle in his ear and he swallowed hard; pushing his hips back against John's.

"That's right; fuck me, Dean," John whispered, and Dean could feel his hands snaking up his sides. One stopped on his hip, and the other kept going, until Dean felt it wrap around his ribcage. "Move your hips... ugh, harder."

Dean could feel John panting against his shoulder and he let out a soft whimper, followed by a moan. He quickly snapped his lips shut and moved his hips roughly against his father's; listening to the man's moans of pleasure, as they got louder.

"Fuck me until I cum.. Like a good boy." John's words were both demanding, yet loving at the same time, and Dean felt his body tremble as he moved back and forth against John's cock.

"I'm going to cum.." John groaned out, and Dean could feel the man's strong fingers gripping his hip, and then his hair. "Oh fuck, Dean." His father kept whispering his name over and over, as he slammed his cock into his ass harder.

"FUCK!" Dean felt his father kiss along his shoulder; the screams and moans, as his orgasm hit, being muffled by his skin. "John," Dean whimpered out as he felt his father's hot cum fill his ass.


	6. Part six

_*John's POV*_

John was panting loudly, his chest rising and falling quickly, as he pulled out of Dean with a barely audible pop. He was exhausted, and fell to the bed beside his son; his eyes automatically closing as he fell against the mattress. He could feel Dean's weight shift beside him, and he peeked an eye open; watching as the young man laid on his back, wincing slightly.

John tried not to chuckle and, instead, leaned over to brush his lips along Dean's collarbone; moving his tongue along Dean's slick skin. Every action caused Dean to shiver, and John smiled, more than before, and wrapped a strong arm around his son's waist, pulling him closer.

"Dean." John sighed and nestled his head in the crook of Dean's neck. He was happy, content, with Dean, and he never wanted it to end. They didn't have to worry about demons, or spirits; werewolves, vampires, or Djinns. They could lie in bed all day, skin to skin, and talk about everything, or nothing at all.

John could feel Dean's chest move as he breathed, and he listened to his heartbeat; gently drumming his fingertips over his chest. Suddenly, he heard giggling, and snapped his head up; worry and panic taking over.

Dean was laughing, for no reason that John could figure out, and he raised an eyebrow at his son.

"What's so funny?" He asked, sitting up in the bed, his eyebrows raised, and forehead furrowed slightly. He watched Dean shake his head and cover his mouth with his hands; depriving him of seeing that beautiful smile.

John lifted his own hands to pry Dean's away from his mouth, and gave his son a small, shy smile. "Please, tell me what you're laughing at.."

He watched Dean's eyes glisten with tears, from laughing so hard, and watched a smile form on his son's perfect lips.

"Nothing, I just.." Dean paused and John waited for him to continue; mentally finishing Dean's sentence in his head. _You just didn't like it. You didn't want me, oh god, you.. didn't want me. _John's thoughts ran wild, and his breathing cut short as he waited for a response.

"I just, haven't been this open and happy in a long time." John heard the young man chuckle softly, and he started breathing again, relieved. He, too, chuckled and moved his hand to Dean's face; his fingertips barely brushing along his smooth, soft, slightly red lips.

"Me either," John whispered, before he leaned in and locked his lips with Dean's once more. They were ten seconds into another heated kiss, when John's phone went off, blaring Creedence Clearwater Revival's _"Up Around The Bend."_

He heard Dean laugh against his lips and rolled his eyes, reaching over the bed and to his nightstand. He snatched his cell-phone up, already knowing who it was without glancing at the caller ID, and flipped it open; pressing it to his ear.

"Bobb-" He started, but Bobby cut him off, muttering rapidly about being in trouble. John shot up in bed, his hand tightly clutching the mobile phone.

"Whoa, whoa," He sighed, and ran a hand through his hair. "What's going on, Bobby?" He asked, his voice faltering slightly; _his best friend_, and one of the only people he would go hunting with, was in trouble, and he was scared to death.

_"I stumbled on a nest of vampires, John... And they saw me, I think." _Bobby's voice was low, and he was speaking fast; John had to press his ear against the receiver just to comprehend what the man was saying.

"Where are you, Bobby?" John was up and out of bed before he got a repsonse; pressing the phone between his head and shoulder. He started snatching clothes up, without inspecting whether they were his or his son's, and ended up in his own jeans, and Dean's t-shirt.

_"Jut outside of Sioux Falls... At an abandoned farm house, please help me, John." _The line cut out before John could say anything and he snapped the phone shut; muttering obscenities as he tore Dean's shirt off his body.

"What's wrong?" Dean asked, and John turned to him; snatching his own shirt off of the bed.

"Bobby's in trouble." The words came out in a faint whisper as John pulled the right shirt over his head. "We have to help him. Vampires.." He breathed deeply and shut his eyes; standing in the middle of the room as he fastened his jeans again.

He heard bed sheets rustle softly, and a second later he could feel Dean's warmth beside him. Swallowing hard, John opened his eyes and looked at his son; seeing panic take over the young man's eyes. Bobby was like John's brother, and like an uncle to his boys; Dean and Sam had always looked up to Bobby, and he'd always taken care of them when John was out of town.

"It's going to be okay, dad," John could hardly hear his son's voice, could barely feel Dean's hand on his shoulder before he turned, breaking all contact from Dean.

"Get dressed, we leave in ten." John was back to barking orders; his voice rushed, and filled with full-blown panic. He walked out of the door, pausing just long enough to grab his jacket and boots, then he was walking down the hallway.

John was taking the stairs two at a time, trying to avoid falling, and to keep his mind off the possible future of his best friend - dead, or worse, he could be turned into one of those blood sucking vermin. He shivered at the thought of it and settled onto the couch, immediately working on pulling his boots on.

His mind was swimming with thoughts - was Bobby okay? Would the vampires find him before he and Dean got there? Could they kill all of them?

John stopped cold, in the middle of lacing his boots, and muttered to himself, "How many are there?" He shook his head, back and forth frantically, trying to clear all the thoughts from his mind. It worked, but only long enough for him to continue lacing his work boots up.

"Dean!" He yelled, standing up and slipping his arms through the sleeves of his jacket; mentally going through a list of the arsenal in his truck. John had everything he needed to kill just about anything he came in contact with, but his mind fell on one very important piece of weaponry; his 10-inch machete.

*Dean's POV*

He muttered quietly to himself as he pulled his jeans on, and fastened them quickly. "Stupid Bobby, going after _stupidfuckinggoddamn_ vampires all by himself."

Dean stopped himself when he realized what he was saying, and _why_ he was saying it. It wasn't Bobby's fault, not entirely at least, and he shouldn't harbor resentment towards the man; he was just trying to do his job. _But_, Dean thought, he still interupted time with his father; time he knew was borrowed.

He pushed the thought from his mind and slipped a t-shirt on, before bending down to pull his boots on and quickly tie them. It'd be too long since he and his father went on a hunt together, and Dean was both terrified and anxious; terrified because he knew he was getting rusty, and anxious because his father handling a gun, or knife, was one of the sexiest things in the world.

With a heavy sigh, Dean shrugged into his old, familiar leather jacket and walked downstairs, mentally counting the hours, minutes, even _seconds_ he had left to spend with his father. As he approached the bottom stair, all Dean could think about was his John's face when he found out what he had done.

"I'm so fucking stupid," Dean muttered and watched John snap his head towards him; cocking it to the side.

"What?" John asked, before Dean walked to him; shrugging his shoulders slightly and chuckling under his breath.

"Nothing, I just.." Dean tried to think of a lie as quickly as possible, instantly frustrated with himself that he couldn't. "I just.. almost tripped over my boots, that's all."

He chuckled nervously, his eyes flashing over John's face, before he saw the smallest hint of a smile form at the corner of his father's lips.

"Okay, son, lets go." John walked in front of him, and Dean followed suite, shutting the door to Bobby's house behind them; wondering if this would be the last time he'd ever see it again. The thought almost brought him to tears as he followed his father to the truck; opening the passenger door and climbing in.

He blacked out for a second, just briefly, but it seemed like hours. When he came-to, the truck was moving, and he shot a glance at the speedometer; John was doing 80 miles per hour.

"Jesus Christ," Dean muttered as he sat up straight in the seat and looked out the window, it was dark outside, but the moon was glowing brightly. Dean watched the world fly past the window, and heard John chuckle, then felt a strong hand on his shoulder, somehow pulling him back into reality; causing him to remember what they were going to do.

"Bobby." The word came out as a quiet breath, and Dean felt John's hand slide down his arm. He turned to his father, just in time to see the man nod, and his hands tighten around the steering wheel.

"What is it?" Dean asked, his voice barely a whisper as he felt the tension in the air.

"They've got Bobby," John whispered, and as he spoke, the truck seemed to speed faster. Dean dared to look at the speedometer, seeing that John was now pushing the old GMC to 90 miles an hour.

"Dad, maybe you should let me drive." Dean put his hand on John's forearm and squeezed softly, for reassurance, and in hopes that John would slow down a little. From the corner of his eye, and in the bright glow of the moon, Dean saw his father shake his head.

"No, I'm driving, we're gonna save Bobby.. and.. I don't know, get away for a while." Dean made a face when his dad said 'get away for a while,' knowing that no matter how far away they went, the same problems would arise. He would still be going to hell in a matter of weeks, if not _days_, and the things they fought would still find them, it would only be a matter of time.

Dean's heartbeat raced as they flew down the road, John taking curves at 85 miles an hour. "Please let us get there safely, please.." Dean whispered, knowing his father wouldn't hear him over the loud roar of the engine. He didn't want to die, in his father's truck, going 90 fucking miles an hour before he got to see his family one more time. He wanted to see Sam, and tell him he loved him one more time, wanted to spend more time with John, and their newly discovered relationship.

All of it was too much for Dean to handle, and he pressed his face into his hands, fingertips splayed across his forehead. He wished he hadn't made that deal, but if he didn't.. Sam would have died, John would have died, and then he would have been all alone. This way, if Dean died, John and Sam would still have each other, and they wouldn't have to worry about him anymore.

Dean _knew_ it was a selfish thing to do and he knew that making a deal with the Crossroads Demon-_selling his soul _- to protect his family was a stupid move. But, he didn't want to lose his father, or Sam, and this was the only way he could keep them - at least for a little while, anyway.

Sighing heavily, Dean leaned back against the seat of the truck and stared out the window, watching the trees blur as they went by. He was thinking about everything he would miss - Sam getting married, having kids, _being an uncle_, being with John, and he soon realized he would even miss hunting. A disgruntled groan tore through Dean's throat, and he shut his eyes, mentally cursing himself as he felt the truck slow down.

"We're close." John's voice was quiet, raspy, and Dean's eyes snapped open when he heard it. He swallowed hard, feeling tears well up in his eyes as he stared at his father, the man who had taught him _everything_ he knew, in the bright moonlight.

"Good," he croaked out, just barely, and cleared his throat quickly; snapping his attention to the road in front of them. Dean barely made out tree branches, tree trunks, and leaves hanging down as the Sierra crept along the gravel road. The engine was quiet now, and his ears picked up every little sound - his heartbeat, John's breathing, the crunch of the gravel as the truck moved along, and he thought he could hear owls off in the distance. _I'm going to miss this,_ Dean thought to himself and sighed again, louder this time.

Both men were quiet as the truck kept moving down the road, until a small house - or barn, Dean didn't know what it was, came into view. He heard John's breathing hitch, and shot him a glance, raising his eyebrow slightly.

"Bobby's car," Dean watched one of John's long fingers point toward the windshield, letting his eyes follow the direction his father was pointing. There it was - Bobby's blue-green-gray nineteen-seventy Chevrolet Chevelle sitting alongside a few other, newer, cars. Dean felt a mix of emotions - he was happy they'd gotten there, he was anxious to kill some Vamps, but he was also worried about being too late, and about getting killed. Worse, he was worried about _John_ getting killed, and the thought was heart, as well as gut, wrenching.

"Lets go." John's voice was hasty as he shut the truck off and pulled the door open, slowly so it wouldn't creak loudly. Dean followed his actions, shutting the door quietly and walking to the bed of the truck. John had his arsenal out already, running his fingers along a line of machetes, trying to find the perfect one. Dean took time to watch this, because he didn't know _when_, or if, he'd be able to again, and smiled to himself.

He picked out his weapons - a three and a half inch thick, nine inch long machete that Sam had gotten him when they were kids; it was a birthday present that Dean didn't _think_ he would ever need, but he had taken anyway. The weapon had turned out to be useful in too many occasions to count, and he made a mental note, if they got out alive, to thank Sam for it.

Dean had also grabbed a few syringes that were filled with one thing that would knock a vamp out cold - dead man's blood. He had never _asked_ his father where he got the supply from, because there were just certain things that he didn't want to know. Plus, he already figured the answer out, and wanted to act oblivious to his father's wheelings and dealings.

Weapons in hand, and dead man's blood in their jacket pockets, the Winchester men set off toward the barn, toward the nest of vampires, and possibly toward their own death.


	7. Part seven

Gravel crunched under their boots as John and Dean headed toward the barn, machetes in hand, and a strange tension between the two of them. John led Dean beside the barn, and leaned his back flat against the side of the building; Dean falling in line beside him, their shoulders touching as John thought of a plan in his head.

"Here's what we'll do," John's voice was low, and he had his head turned to his son, a smile on his face, though Dean couldn't see it. "You go in through the back, and I'll go in through the front.. That way, we can strike from both angles." Dean felt his heart drop at the thought of being separated, during a _hunt_ nonetheless, from his father, but found himself nodding anyway.

"Yes, sir." Dean croaked and swallowed hard, the weapon in his hand shaking slightly. John felt his son trembling and put his hand on the young man's arm, to stop the tremors, and to just hold onto him.

"It'll be okay, Dean." John whispered, before patting Dean's arm, listening to the soft sound of his flesh hitting the fabric of Dean's jacket. Without another word, John dropped his hand and turned, making his way to the front door of the barn, and leaving Dean all alone.

Breathing hard, Dean stood there, staring into the darkness after John, his hand out-stretched; fearful that he would never see his father again, that he would never get to _touch_ John again. With that thought, Dean's heart raced and his head got back in the game, and on the task he and his father set out to do. He remembered Bobby, the nest of Vamps, and the dead man's blood that felt strangely heavy in his pocket.

Dean turned toward the back of the building and began walking along the outer walls, one hand out-stretched and running along the smooth wood, while the other held the machete high. His ears strained to hear the sounds inside the walls, and he thought for a second he heard a scream, stopping dead in his tracks.

Dean pressed his ear to the cold wood, and strained his ear harder, _needing_ to hear the sound again, or hear nothing at all. No, hearing nothing at all would be _worse_ than hearing a scream, and Dean groaned when he heard nothing but silence. Sighing, he kept walking until he came to the end of the wall, and rounded the corner, his hands searching for a door handle.

His fingers hit something hard, cold, and protruding from the wall, and Dean tugged hard on it, pulling the door open. He shot glances beside him, and behind him, before walking through the door, shutting it slowly behind him. Once inside, Dean could smell blood everywhere - the horrible iron smell seeping from every corner of the building.

On the other side of the barn, John was fighting vampires off left and right; sending heads, and bodies, sprawling to the floor, blood pouring out onto the dirt. He stepped over the bodies carefully and looked around the room for a door, or some sort of entrance. John looked up, sighing as his eyes scanned along the ceiling, until they landed on a loft. Before he could think of a plan, or even think of the outcome of what he was doing, John ran to the ladder and scurried up it, hopeful that he would find Bobby at the top.

When he reached the beginning of the ladder, John scrambled onto the loft, crouching down as he walked further into the darkness. "Bobby?" John's voice was soft, and he had his weapon in hand, in case there were any vampires in the loft.

Dean entered the main room of the barn and looked around, seeing bodies, and heads, scattered along in the dirt. He saw the blood pool around each body, and tried not to step in it as he walked along the bodies, looking around for his dad.

"Dad!" Dean screamed, standing in one spot and turning around, his eyes darting from one corner of the room to another. Then he heard noises overhead; there was a series of thumps, groans, and the metallic sound of a knife hitting some other metal object. Dean's breath caught in his throat as his attention snapped up, toward the noises, and that's when he saw the loft.

His eyes also landed on a young woman, he guessed she was about twenty, being held over the edge of the small space. Dean saw that her hands, looking more like claws, were gripping the wood, her nails digging into it and scratching it as she held on for dear life.

And then he saw his father holding her by the hair, the tip of his machete laying against her jugular. Dean stood still, watching his father dangle the girl - the _vampire_ - over the edge of the loft, his breathing stopped completely. He had watched his father kill lots of things, sure, but it'd been a while since he had seen such brutality, such raw anger. But here his father was, holding a vampire by the hair, with his weapon pressed against her throat, showing no remorse, or sympathy.

John stared down into the cold, dead, blank eyes of the girl he'd found about to feed on Bobby, who was knocked unconscious. His hand gripped her hair tighter, and the blade of his machete pressed against her skin, causing her to writhe against his hold, and his weapon.

"Are there anymore?" John's voice was low, and full of anger and rage as he stared down at the blood-sucker, his blade digging in deeper. The fang whimpered, a sound that surprised John, and kicked more, but John just yanked her hair harder - feeling the roots rip from her scalp.

"I'll take that as a no, and my son, best friend, and I are free to leave, right?" John's voice was that of a man who was dominating a woman, controlling her and making her obey his every word. In a way, that's what he was doing; he was controlling her life by hanging her over the edge, and not chopping her fucking head off when he had the chance.

The vamp squirmed more, growling and hissing at John as she exposed her teeth, mumbling incoherently. John rolled his eyes and pulled her back over the edge, laying her back before his machete came down, slicing through her throat. The body writhed, just slightly, as the head rolled away and John sat back, staring at the blade, watching the blood roll down the cold metal.

Dean started breathing, once the kill was done and over with, and blinked his eyes, keeping them closed for a second, before opening them again. When he looked up again, Dean saw John look down at him, his face serene and peaceful, which scared Dean just a little.

"I found Bobby," John shouted down at his son before he turned back to his best friend, who was still knocked out. He breathed a sigh of relief and dropped his machete; crawling over to Bobby and pulling him out near the ledge.

"He's out, though.." John looked down at Bobby and gave his face a couple of soft slaps; cursing under his breath as the man's eyes remained shut. Sighing, John lay his best friend back onto the floor and looked over the edge at Dean.

"I need help getting him down," He shouted, gripping the edge of the floor tightly as he looked down at his son. Dean was standing there staring back up at John, bloody machete still in his hand; he was still reeling from watching his father kill a vampire.

"I'm coming," Dean shouted after several minutes of standing there, re-living the previous scene in his mind. He made his way to the ladder and tossed his machete to the floor before climbing up to the loft. When he got to the top of the ladder he saw his father kneeling in front of Bobby, trying to move the man.

"Bobby! Bobby, come on, wake the fuck up..." John was pleading with his best friend to wake up. Despite all of John's effort, Bobby's eyes remained shut and John grew increasingly worried. Dean crawled into the small space and sat beside Bobby, his eyes locked on John.

"How are we going to get him down?" Dean moved his gaze from John to Bobby; the hunter was out _cold_ and Dean reached a hand out, touching Bobby's neck to feel for a pulse. He barely felt soft thudding against the pads of his fingers and sighed in relief, dropping his hand.

"I don't fucking know," John almost screamed at Dean, causing his son to jump back slightly and stare at him. Sighing, John looked up, tears rimming his eyes as he stared at Dean. "I'm sorry, I just.." John's voice dropped to a whisper, "He's my best friend, like fucking family.. Other than you and Sam, he's all I have."

John moved his gaze back to Bobby, who was still unresponsive and sighed, leaning back on the heels of his boots. Neither man said anything; Dean just kept watching John, while trying to form a _logical_ plan as to how to get Bobby onto the ground. Dean leaned over, peering at the drop beneath them and swallowed hard; there was _no way_ they could drop Bobby to the ground without injuring him.

"Why don't you carry him on your back? And I'll be down at the bottom, in case you drop him or something.." Dean bit the corner of his lip as he turned his head, looking at John who had lifted his head, eyes locked on Dean's. Chuckling, Dean shrugged and splayed his hands helplessly, giving his best '_It's worth a shot_' face.

John swallowed hard, his eyes flickering between Bobby and the edge of the loft as he contemplated Dean's plan. With a heavy sigh, he nodded and motioned, with a quick nod, for Dean to climb down. Without saying a word, Dean obeyed; shimmying down the ladder before hopping down, backing up far enough to watch his dad load Bobby onto his back.

"Jesus, Bobby," John grunted as he settled Bobby on his back and stayed hunched over and crawled to the ladder. Carefully, John turned around and moved his foot until hit one of the rungs in the ladder, before sliding his other foot down to join it. With one hand, John gripped the top rung, while the other wrapped around his body, gripping Bobby's back to prevent him from falling.

John moved carefully, taking each step as slowly as possible, his grip on Bobby tightening with each step. He was sweaty and nervous; terrified that he would drop Bobby and kill him, or that they would both fall and get seriously hurt. Swallowing hard, John made it to the last few rungs and sighed in relief.

"Dean, grab hold of Bobby and pull him down onto the ground," John ordered, feeling Dean's hand tap his own to signal that he had Bobby. John let him go, listening to his son groan as he pulled the hunter off his father's back. Turning, John saw Dean laying Bobby onto the ground and smiling triumphantly.

Chuckling, John made his way to the ground and jumped off the ladder, dusting his hands against his jeans. He smiled at Dean before moving over to Bobby, patting his jeans pockets, and the pockets of his vest for the keys to his Chevelle. John finally hit something lumpy in one of Bobby's vest pockets and he dug into it, retrieving a key ring filled with keys.

"Okay, here's what we're going to do," John looked up at Dean with a small smile on his face, holding Bobby's keys up. "We're going to get him into my truck, then you're going to find his Chevelle - I think I saw the headlights reflect off chrome before we stopped, so that's probably where it's at. I'll drive Bobby home, you drive his car back; I know if that thing's not in the yard when he wakes up.." John chuckled and looked down at his best friend again.

"Alright, come on. We'll act like crutches for him; you hold him up under one arm, and I'll be under the other." Dean shoved the keys into his jacket pocket before bending down, picking up his machete before sticking it back into his jacket. He knelt on the right side of Bobby, while his dad squatted on the left. John counted to three, and both men lifted Bobby into a standing position, his head going limp and falling forward.

They had wrapped one of Bobby's arms around each of their shoulders and started walking, half dragging, half carrying Bobby through the barn doors. Dragging the hunter through the grass, Dean looked around, just to make sure he didn't see, or sense, any movements around them. They got to the truck safely, and Dean helped John pile Bobby into the cab before shutting the door.

"Be careful," John whispered to Dean, lifting his hand to brush rough fingertips against his jaw. Shivering, Dean closed his eyes for half a second before opening them, nodding his head as he removed his machete. John walked around the truck and climbed in, firing the engine up and watching, in the headlights, Dean walked toward the barn again.

John stayed where he was, letting Dean use the headlights to look for the car, instead of walking aimlessly around in the dark. Five minutes later, he _faintly_ heard the roar of the Chevelle and saw headlights flicker on. Sighing in relief, for the countless time that night, John pulled into the yard and made a slight U-turn before driving down the path; watching Dean pull behind him in the rear-view mirror.

Dean relaxed against the seat, one hand handing over the steering wheel as he followed John; his head swimming with thoughts. Chewing on his lip, Dean flipped the radio on and tuned it until he heard AC/DC's _"Back In Black,"_ playing. He smiled and cranked it up, singing as loud as he could, drumming his hands against the steering wheel.

* * *

Two hours later, Bobby was in bed, while Dean and John were downstairs, sitting on the couch and drinking a beer. An hour after being home, Bobby had woken up with _no_ recollection of what happened to him. So, after a gruesome story of how Dean and John had taken on a whole nest of vamps, _then_ risked dropping him and possibly killing him, Bobby had gone to sleep.

John sighed and drained his beer - the third one since they'd been home - and tossed the bottle on to the couch next to him. Dean was sitting beside John, quietly staring at his bottle of beer, his _first_ that night, and John reached out, brushing his knuckles along Dean's jaw.

"What's on your mind?" John cupped Dean's jaw, gently lifting his head and smiling at the young man. Swallowing hard, Dean moved his eyes to his father's and shook his head, chewing at the inside of his lip.

"Nothing, I just," Dean sighed and leaned forward, breaking contact with John and placing his beer on the coffee table before leaning back. Turning to his father, Dean managed to muster a small smile before speaking again.

"I think we should go see Sam, and sometime soon. I miss the kid, and I know you do too. Hell, we can take Bobby with us." Dean sighed softly, his eyes studying John's face slowly, trying to judge his reaction. Then, John smiled, the space beside his eyes crinkling slightly and his dimples showing.

"I'd like that, and I'm sure Bobby will, too; he's always talking about how he misses Sammy." John leaned forward and pulled Dean against him, kissing his lips gently as he wrapped his arms around his son's torso. "We'll go once we know Bobby's okay," John whispered against Dean's lips, smiling more before laying down, pulling Dean on top of him.

Sure, it wasn't the most comfortable way to lie down, but Dean had his head on John's chest, and he couldn't be happier. Closing his eyes, John lifted a hand and ran his fingers through Dean's hair, while the other moved along his spine, tracing it under his thin cotton t-shirt.

"This is going to sound cheesy and cliché," John sighed, fingers threading through Dean's hair as he listened to his son's even breathing. He didn't know if the young man was still awake, or he'd passed out, but either way John needed to speak his mind.

"I love you, Dean; I know this is one of those 'chick-flick' moments you complain about so much.." John sighed again, fingertips gripping Dean's shirt as he continued, "but, I just need to tell you. What we have isn't typical, nor is it _accepted_ among many individuals.."

John stopped talking when he heard Dean snoring faintly, and smiled, shaking his head before leaning it against his son's. He would talk to Dean tomorrow, or before they left for Palo Alto - whenever _that_ would be - and the kid would know how he felt.

He laid there for a few minutes, making sure Dean was knocked out before he slipped, carefully, from underneath his son. John pushed Dean onto his back and pulled a blanket over him, leaning in to kiss his cheek softly.

John pulled back, looking at Dean with a smile on his face, until he felt a pain in his temple. His eyes snapped shut and suddenly all John could see was red; he heard screaming, _pleads_, and snarling. Stumbling to the stair case, John fell to his knees on the bottom step, hands on either side of his head.

This could _not_ be happening; he was having these fucked up images during the day, not just at night, and when he was asleep. Snapping his head back and forth, John tried shaking the images out of his mind as he took slow, shallow breaths, keeping his ears open, in case Dean woke up.

Finally, John's vision cleared and he gasped, the last image in his mind being Dean, lying on the floor with blood pooling around him. Swallowing hard, John pushed himself onto his feet and walked up the stairs, making his way, slowly, to his room.

Once inside, John walked to his bed and collapsed on it, burying his face into the pillow and sighing into it. He hoped, in vain, that these dreams were just coincidental, and didn't mean anything. Chalking it up to some weird coincident, John turned onto his back and closed his eyes, folding his hands over his chest.

As he lay there, John thought about seeing Sam, getting to see him graduate; have the life he'd set off to have by himself. John fell asleep with a smile on his face, and thoughts of Sam, Dean, and himself being a family again - even for a little while.

All the while, John had no idea that Dean was downstairs, writhing on the couch as he was dreaming about Hell; dreaming that the Hell Hounds were on his trail, and no matter how fast he ran, he couldn't lose them. John was oblivious to the fact that Dean was gripped by fear, whimpering and moaning in his sleep, reaching out for someone - _anyone_ - to save him.

The house was quiet, for the most part - two out of the three occupants sleeping soundly, while the other thrashed around, 'running' from Hell Hounds in his sleep. The clock was ticking for Dean and the dreams got worse and worse when he slept alone. Then again, _everything_ seemed to go downhill when he was alone; the tremors got worse, the panic grew to enormous proportions and his faith decreased rapidly.


End file.
